


They’re Bite Size!

by sapphire_child



Category: Dead Like Me, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Community: then_theres_us, Der Waffle Haus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-06
Updated: 2010-12-06
Packaged: 2019-01-28 20:57:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12615344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire_child/pseuds/sapphire_child
Summary: “They’re good waffles them.” he commented as he began idly dinging a bell on the console. “Even if they’re using false advertising to sell ‘em – saying that they’re bite size.”





	They’re Bite Size!

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** many thanks to the creators and writers of Dead Like Me from whom I have shamelessly stolen several lines of dialogue, the waitress, and the name of the restaurant. A cookie to anyone who a) watched the show and b) can place the lines I’ve stolen.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/155122168@N03/24280912998/in/album-72157688618079026/)

More often than not the TARDIS does _not_ have enough food onboard in either galley or larder to make a decent breakfast with. And a decent breakfast is one thing that Rose Tyler cannot really do without anymore.

After all, how is one supposed to go adventuring in time and space without a decent meal first thing? They might end up imprisoned (highly likely), or starving to death on a planet where everything is poisonous to humans (somewhat less likely but it’s certainly happened in the past).

And it’s not as if she can count on the Doctor to have a stash of food in his pockets either (even if he usually does) and when he does half the time it’s gone stale from being in his jacket for too long.

Which is why, when they run out of milk for the umpteenth time she demands that he take her somewhere for breakfast. Somewhere good. Somewhere with _waffles_.

“What on Earth d’you want _waffles_ for?” he demands, baffled, even as he acquiesces and begins setting coordinates.

“Cos I want them.” She says simply. Utterly resolute. “I bet you know a dozen places around the universe that has decent waffles.”

“More like fifty or a hundred,” he corrects her absently. “But depends on whether you want _decent_ waffles or _the best_.”

And with a grin, he sends them hurtling through the vortex and into...

“ _Der Waffle Haus_?” Rose read incredulously. “What, is this like the tourist section of outer-space Disneyland or something?”

“Nope.” The Doctor said cheerfully, taking her hand and swinging it as they made their way to the glass doors. “Just middle America. But they do a good coffee here and an old friend of mine reckons the waffles are decent enough.”

Rose sat down in a booth with him, disgruntled. “Decent? Thought we were going to find the best waffles in the universe...”

Luckily, the Doctor was saved from answering by the arrival of one of the waitresses – a large black woman kitted out in full German national dress.

“Wilkommen to Der Waffle Haus,” she said tiredly. “What can I getcha?”

They ordered, the Doctor making sure to address the waitress by the name badge pinned onto her apron. If she was surprised by their clearly foreign accents, Kiffany didn’t say anything about it – just took their orders and carried on.

“You ordered _Mexican_ food in a _German Waffle house_?” Rose hissed disbelievingly after she had left their table. The Doctor looked vastly offended by Rose’s distaste at his choice of breakfast.

“Well it was on the menu!” he said defensively, crossing his arms and settling into a short sulk until their drinks arrived – coffee for him with no creamer (“Seriously? They put cream in their coffee here?” Rose couldn’t quite believe it.) and English Breakfast for Rose.

The waffles, it transpired, were really kind of amazing. Rose poured maple syrup into each little square indentation and then chopped into them enthusiastically with her fork. She was so enthusiastic about them in fact, that she ordered a box of mini-waffles to go as well.

“You know I’ll never understand the human instinct to _miniaturise_ food.” The Doctor admitted, peeking into the box as Rose used his psychic paper to pay for them.

“It’s bite size.” Rose said absently.

The Doctor scowled. “That is not _bite size_.” He said scornfully, pulling one of the mini-waffles out and waving it around. “I can’t fit this into my mouth!”

To prove his point, he tried to cram the thing in and ended up spilling sticky waffle crumbs all over the counter. Mortified, Rose all but dragged him out of the restaurant.

“You’re worse than my Aunt Mo,” she complained. “I can’t even go to the shops with her without wanting to dig a hole and bury myself in it.”

The Doctor, meanwhile, had snuck the waffle box inside his coat and was still chewing his way through the sticky mess that was half in and half out of his mouth. Rolling her eyes at him when he indicated his sticky hands and his inability to unlock the TARDIS, Rose fished her key out and did it herself.

By the time he got to the console, the Doctor had finished swallowing down his waffle however and after wiping his hands off on his trousers seemed to produce little amount of cleanliness, he produced a moist towellette seemingly from nowhere and cleaned off his hands and chin in a perfunctory manner.

“They’re good waffles them.” he commented as he began idly dinging a bell on the console. “Even if they’re using false advertising to sell ‘em – saying that they’re bite size.”

“They _are_ bite size.” Rose informed him.

Later in the day however, when they were imprisoned in a medieval dungeon, she had to eat her words when she wound up with syrup and crumbs all over her face.

“See,” the Doctor told her, gleefully. “Doesn’t fit in your mouth either big mouth. _Definitely_ not bite size.”

Rose retaliated by plonking one of the waffles, syrup side down, in his hair.

It took him almost five moist towellettes to clean himself up and the box of waffles was abandoned in lieu of their escape plans only to be found by the next recreant to be thrown into the cell.

The thief had never had such an excellent meal in his life.


End file.
